


baby, it's fact

by nifeandaccurate (12AM)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 21:02:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3355166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/12AM/pseuds/nifeandaccurate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Eames settle down. But not before the world goes to pieces and they spend years trying to clean up the mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	baby, it's fact

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thinkingaboutelephants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkingaboutelephants/gifts).



> Written for the [ArthurEames Gift Exchange](http://arthureamesgiftexchange.tumblr.com). This is my first time trying to write a proper romance centric fic and it was an interesting experience! Thinkingaboutelephants, I hope this meets your request! 
> 
> Also, please go and check out the lovely fic she wrote for me! [Permanent by thinkingaboutelephants.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3331946)

 

"Who would have thought we'd all end up here," Eames sighs out, leaning on the balcony railing. Beside him, Arthur faces the open doorway and lights up a cigarette.

"Cobb's a good man, if that's what you're worried about," Arthur says absently, keeping his eyes trained on where Mal's twirling around the ballroom. They're long past when they had to watch over each others' shoulders and navigate through the seedy underbelly of dreamshare without a guide but his protective instinct isn't so easily quelled.

"It's not that, it's just-," Eames pauses to try and collect his words. He's starting to tread into delicate territory and he doesn't want to risk the wrong words setting something off. "We were great, you know?" he says, gesturing expansively into the open air to capture everything he can't put into words. "We were at the top of our game and here are the legendary Mal and Cobb, popping off to live in the suburbs with their brood."

Arthur grins. "Now, don't talk about Phillipa like that—  you're the one who spoils her rotten." He cuts off Eames' half hearted protest with, "Besides, _we're_ still the best. Just because they're retiring doesn't mean we're out of the game."

Arthur breaths out a puff of smoke into the cool night air, wry smirk on his face.

Eames watches him and entertains the thought of kissing it off his face. "That's true," he says instead, "but Dreamshare's a young man's game."

Arthur huffs out a laugh. "Mal would have your head for that."

"My bad, phrasing."  Eames winces at her imaginary rage that she would surely bring down on his neck. "But you know what I mean. We can't keep running away from people gunning for us and towards the next big thing forever. As soon as we're no longer cutting edge, we'll be out."

"Yeah, I know." Arthur drops his cigarette on the ground and grinds it beneath his heel before turning around to face the open air. He bumps his shoulder against Eames' companionably and throws him a glance. "What are you trying to say, Eames?'

He wavers. "Maybe they're smart for leaving the field now," he starts, heart quickening.

Arthur has always been able to see right through him, from back when he didn't fit in his skin properly and tried to bluff through everything with false bravado to now, where he can lie with a gun pressed to his head. And Arthur's stayed with him from the beginning so Eames ignores the hammering beat of his heart and presses on.

"Have you ever thought about it? Us retiring, I mean," Eames says, his quicksilver tongue twisting itself into knots. His usual grace with words fails him. Beside him, Arthur is quiet. If he didn't know Arthur better, he would have called it stalling for time. But he sees the tilt of Arthur's head and knows that he's giving it the same amount of consideration he does everything. He waits for Arthur to connect the dots and understand what he can't quite bring himself to say out loud.

He's been thinking about this for a while. How it would feel to wake up every morning to a familiar face, to _Arthur_ , and fall asleep every night to a warm body pressed against his side. He used to believe that he would never get tired of running around the world but he thinks that Arthur's sleepy smile before his first cup of coffee is even sweeter.

After a few long seconds, Arthur says, "I think I'd like to retire with you one day." He takes Eames' hand in his, locking their fingers together. "I don't think I'm ready for it yet, though."

In a way, Eames expected this answer. He loves the way Arthur loves the game, the fight— the way his eyes light up in the middle of a job gone wrong, when carefully made plans are shoved aside and it all comes down to pure instinct and improvisation. There's a reason why he's the best in the field.

Arthur looks at Eames, carefully neutral. "I'm not asking you to wait for me. I'm not—  I wouldn't hold it against you if you wanted to leave now."

Eames raises their joined hands to his mouth and brushes a kiss across Arthur's knuckles. These hands have broken ribs and locks but right now they seem delicate with thin skin stretched over knobbly bone. He smiles. "I'm not leaving you now. There's still some fight in me."

Arthur's soft smile mirrors his own. Arthur moves his other hand to the back of Eames' neck and pulls him in for a gentle kiss.

A few years ago, Eames would have laughed at anyone who told him that he would be here, wanting to settle down. That was before he stumbled into what he has with Arthur. It nearly brings him to his knees when he thinks about it. How Arthur, who never lets his poker face drop before the world because there's always someone around to take advantage, has opened himself to Eames and trusts him with everything he has. There's nothing in a domestic life he would want without Arthur.

They pull apart to the sound of someone tapping their heeled foot on marble nearby. When Arthur turns to look, he sees Mal grinning at them, looking radiant.

She looks lovely, glowing in her white ball gown and her hair curled up like a crown. Looking at the three of them now, they've come so far from the banged up kids they used to be and Eames is so proud. Mal deserves every bit of happiness she's fought for.

"Sorry for the interruption, boys, but I need to borrow Arthur." She extends her hand out to him like a queen, and says, mock-imperiously, "Come, dance with me! You've evaded me long enough and it is very rude to turn down a lady on her wedding day."

Arthur smiles. "In that case, how could I refuse?" he says, taking her hand and letting her draw him out into the ballroom. He shoots Eames a playful look over his shoulder as he walks away.

Eames grins. He steps out onto the floor for a minute to snatch a flute of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter. He takes a sip as he watches Mal and Arthur twirling around. They step in sync, twin images of grace. Mal was the one who taught Arthur how to dance and it shows in his steps, elegant and smooth. She leans her head in to whisper something into Arthur's ear and he laughs, loud and bright. Eames' smile tugs wider without his permission and he raises his glass in a silent toast.

 

Some time after that, Mal plunges off of a building and the world goes to shit.

 

Arthur leaves to run across the world after Cobb. Before he goes, he kisses Eames fiercely and tells him, "I'll come back to you, I swear."

His hands are rough on Eames' arms and they're shaking. Arthur's face is shattered wide open and Eames knows that he's scared. They doesn't know how long it will be before Cobb stops running and _oh god_ neither of them have been able to properly mourn for Mal yet and Mal's dead, she's gone and buried and—  

Eames wrenches himself out of his thoughts and cups Arthur's face gently. "I trust you," he says, and isn't that the truth. He'd go to the ends of the world and back for Arthur. He's taken bullets for Arthur and he'll fire many more. Trust sits in their bones and what they have has been forged in the heat of gunfights and lost causes and cemented with time. So he'll shadow Arthur and Cobb's steps, he'll make sure they always have fake passports and alibis, he'll get his hands dirty to smooth the road for them, and it won't matter how lonely his bed feels.

They stand there, arms wrapped around each other in front of the doorway. Arthur's hastily packed bag leans against the wall. There's not enough time for everything left unsaid between them but there's never enough time. Arthur needs to get to the airport before Cobb flees the scene of the crime and Eames needs to bury himself in research about loopholes in American law and extradition policies. Time is running out but they indulge themselves in a few more seconds buried in each other's arms. When they let go, the outside world seems a little colder.

 

Two years later and Eames gets a visit from Cobb, who hasn't lost the haunted look in his eyes. He says _inception_ and Eames thinks _Arthur_ and helplessly agrees.

When he gets to Paris, he's bursting out of his skin in anticipation. He hasn't seen Arthur face to face in months and sporadic phone calls over crackling connections aren't enough. Their last call held long enough for Eames to warn Arthur away from a potential client but not for him to say _I miss you_ or _I love you_ or _I wish you were home_. Eames can't stay in their shared apartment stateside for longer than a few days because the rooms are far too quiet and empty without Arthur there. Instead, he's been hopping from city to city, taking on the odd job and doing what he can to help Arthur and Cobb from afar.

Eames won't feel settled until Arthur's safe in his arms. It's not that he doesn't trust Cobb—  well, he doesn't trust Cobb. He doesn't trust this world to keep Arthur safe.

He walks into the warehouse and spots Arthur at a desk, surrounded by piles of research. His heart plummets. Arthur looks exhausted, worn down and trying to hide it. The slope of his back is heavy, weighed down with stress and late nights. There's a certain scattered quality to the notes spread across his desk that scream how frazzled he's been and everything together is the biggest red flag that Eames has seen in a while.

Arthur looks up at his entrance and stands. There's something like relief on his face and Eames knows its mirrored on his own. Before he realizes it, he's moving in and sweeps Arthur in for a crushing hug, holding him as close as he can.

 It feels right in a way that nothing else has for a long time.

"I've missed you," he says roughly. It's not enough but it's all he has.

Arthur doesn't say anything but wraps his arms tightly around Eames and clutches to his back. Eames breathes him in. He smells like cigarettes and the lavender shampoo he always uses and Eames never wants to let go. It feels like coming home. There's a dull ache beneath his ribs that melts away as he tries to refamiliarize himself with the way Arthur feels in his arms.

He reluctantly lets go when he hears the door swinging open behind them and Cobb's footsteps.

"Well," he says, clearing his throat, "let's get to work, shall we?"

 

The job's a mess. Cobb's clearly hiding something, from his late nights alone to how he's pulled a college kid into working with them. It's all been taking a toll on Arthur, who hasn't had a proper night's sleep since Eames has joined them. He's the first one in the warehouse and the last one to leave. Eames knows how Arthur's hands shake after his fourth cup of coffee and he notices the darkening bruises under Arthur's eyes.

That day, when Eames is preparing to leave, he walks up to Arthur's desk and places a hand on his shoulder. Arthur looks up from his laptop and Eames smiles gently.

"Come on, darling. You can finish your research tomorrow."

Arthur looks like he's about to protest and Eames stops him with a firm, "You need to stop running yourself into the ground like this."

Arthur sags under his touch with a bone-deep weariness. "I know. But what else can I do? It's a long shot this job is even going to work." He breathes out a quiet sigh. "None of us know what we're doing."

"It's going to be okay," Eames says with a conviction he doesn't entirely feel. But it has to work out. Cobb and Arthur have been running for too long and Cobb's half in the ground and dragging Arthur with him. If this job goes south, Eames doesn't know what they're going to do.

 

They're elbow deep in last minute preparations and Eames notices Arthur snatching the carton of cigarettes he keeps in the bottom of his bag and walking out. He grabs his jacket off the back of his chair and follows Arthur out.

Arthur's leaning against the rough brickwork of the warehouse, cigarette already lit. Eames goes to stand beside him and waves off the proffered carton Arthur holds out questioningly at him.

"I thought you were trying to quit," he says as he steals Arthur's cigarette and fits it in between his lips. He doesn't mention how he's worried about the way Arthur's hands shake. He doesn't mention how he feels like they're all unraveling as the job comes closer or how he trusts no one on the team aside from Arthur. Instead, he lets the words disappear on his tongue like smoke and passes the cigarette back.

"I am," Arthur says and takes a deep drag. Another time, Eames might have cracked a joke or pushed Arthur into the wall and kissed him breathless but inception is hanging over their necks. Once this is over, he's whisking Arthur away with him for at least a month to somewhere warm, far away from cold workrooms haunted by long dead ghosts. He doesn't dare think what will happen if this goes wrong, if something backfires, or they're stuck too deep. Instead, he takes Arthur's hand and twines their fingers together. He presses a kiss into Arthur's knuckles like a promise and lets their joined hands fall between them.

There's no room for words between them now.

 

Eames steps off the plane and he feels like he can breathe again. The job's done and everyone's woken up and Cobb's going home and Arthur's free. It takes everything for him to not break character and bury himself in Arthur's arms and never let go.

Somehow he makes his way to the luggage carousel and waits there for Arthur without causing an international accident. He's dimly aware of Cobb walking past but he only has eyes for one person. A small lifetime passes and then Arthur is walking towards him, pulling a suitcase behind him with a smile on his face.

As soon as Arthur's in reach, Eames gives in and pulls him into an embrace. Something clatters to the floor but he doesn't care because Arthur reaches out and meets him halfway. He's thrumming with happiness because it's _finally_ over and he's with Arthur and everything is going to be okay. Arthur's arms are around him and squeezing him tight. He hears Arthur gasp out, "Take me away from here," and he just holds on tighter and he says, " _Yes_."

 

Waking up next to Arthur is still the greatest thing that's happened to him. The sun peeks through the blinds and Eames blinks open his eyes to a warm shape tucked against his side, arms wrapped around his torso, and legs intertwined with his own. He shifts to read the numbers on the bedside clock and Arthur mumbles something in his sleep and holds onto him tighter.

Eames has never been happier.

He knows there's a wide smile stretching across his face as he leans down to brush a soft kiss on Arthur's sleep wrinkled forehead.

In a minute, he's going to try to dislodge himself from Arthur's arms to get up and start the coffee machine. Arthur will curl in closer and Eames will murmur platitudes until his grip on Eames' shirt loosens. By the time the coffee's ready, Arthur will have shuffled his way to the kitchen, rubbing his eyes blearily and wearing only a pair of Eames' boxers. Arthur will wrap himself around Eames as he slowly drinks his first cup of coffee. Once he puts the mug down on the counter, Eames will press him against it and kiss him silly.

In a minute, though. For now, he's going to stay in this moment of warmth with Arthur.

 

 


End file.
